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Notes About The Poem

This poem's real purpose, at least starting out , was to say that we all have models of reality, and even models of our family members. We can't be them, we can just have a model in our minds. But rhyme and other constraints made the poem diverge from the purpose.

Four Hundred Thousand

Four hundred thousand waking hours passed
A blink of an eye, it seemed so fast
Between when he was born to the month he would die
His mind replayed it as his sons gathered by.

He said "I raised you well, but there’s no rule
To prevent all mistakes, to foolproof a fool.
Jim, there was no advice I could share
You kept hitting walls where there was nothing but air.

And Greg, reality gave you a sharp blow
You fell for good looks, a person you didn’t know
Blind assumptions took you off reason's track
You filled blanks with wishes instead of with facts.

You both were naive, that was your curse
Didn't realize personality is so diverse
The rainforest may have species of very kind.
But vastly outnumbered by permutations of the mind.

Greg and Jim were dismayed, they sat on the couch
They had always seen dad as a lovable grouch
But all this negativity seemed surreal
At death's door, didn't he care how he made them feel?

Dad added, "I look back, no way to make amends
My life was a train wreck with doom to my friends
I criticize you, but I didn’t know me.
I failed life's tests, who I wanted to be.

Jim and Greg met each other’s eyes, unsure what to say,
The weight of his words would not soon drift away.
Then he grasped their hands, and gave them a smile
A boost better than words, if for only a while.

characterdaddeathfatherfatherlyric

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